A Requiem's Review

I've become quite enchanted with Mozart's "Requiem in D Minor" over the past few months. The Requiem is a catholic liturgical text meant to be recited as a prayer in memory of the dead. Mozart's grand Requiem composition in the late 1700's follows in the line of musical Requiems meant for church services dating back to Ockeghem in 1460. The grand Requiems of the 19th and 18th centuries were usually commissioned by the family of a noble or aristocrat after his death. Some of the finest music of the time could be heard in the cathedrals of Europe as the grand vaults echoed with the images of horror, death, hope, beauty, and salvation presented in the Requiem mass.

Mozart's Requiem is superb in its construction, running a full gamut of emotions as the composer ponders meeting the divine being (ironically, he himself would die before completing the Requiem). The awesome majesty of the divine is built throughout the first movement, as soft strains of violins give way to massive choruses. The chorus implores the Lord to grant the dead eternal rest, sometimes softly, sometimes begging with an emotional intensity that is breathtaking as the female vocalists soar into impassioned pleadings and praise while the male part holds a somewhat melancholy counter melody beneath them.

In the Dies Irae (Day of Wrath), we get one of the darkest, most aggressive movements of the piece. The images of hell and final judgement are invoked, the world dissolving in fire, as the chorus pleads with God to save them from this awful outcome. The movement exhausts itself quickly, and shortly trumpets break in, waking the dead to usher them before the throne of God. Finally, we hear rays of sweet hope. The composer recovers from the reflex of fear and trembling upon first contemplating the most high and in the gentle strains of the sopranos and baritones he finally feels the first hints of the peace of God.

However Mozart's Requiem is one of the darkest of Requiem compositions. The hope does not remain long. The next movement, "Rex Tremendae", or "King of aweful majesty", emphasizes the power of God, a fearful power. But this movement is more optimistic than the first two, perhaps now the composer recognizes the ability of this power to heal, as well as destroy. The movement ends with the plaintive and haunting sounds of the soprano's imploring "Salve me", or "save me", one of the most memorable moments of the piece.

Hope and beauty returns, as the composer remembers God's love, for the composer himself was the cause of Jesus' pilgrimage and sacrifice. Though he is but a mortal being, tiny and insignificant before the King of aweful majesty, for him the Christ came to give his life in sacrifice. Gentle, bright music marks this part of the Requiem. A prayer of praise and suplication continues at some length, peaceful and solemn, as the musician contemplates the salvation given by God.

We return once again to fierce images of hellfire, intermingled with soft and beautiful pleas for salvation. Here, the composer strikes up a sharp contrast between the realms of the blessed and of the damned. The composer seems less fearful in the face of eternal doom than before, perhaps now he begins to believe that God is merciful and will show him mercy. The strings enter with a violent maelstrom of a melody while the bass intones with a martial rhythym: "Confutatis maledictis/ Flammis acribus addictis," or "When the accursed are damned to bitter flames". The chaos of the music reflects the chaos and confusion in the minds of the wicked as they struggle to understand their fate through the veil of pain enveloping them. Suddenly, the storm gives way to the ephemeral and peaceful voices of angels, as the female chorus sings "Voca me cum benedictis" or "Count me among the blessed" while the orchestra lies dormant, allowing the vocal melodies to float delicately on the silence, conjuring images of the blessed before the Lord. The orchestra then shatters the placid reflection of the sopranos with the storm-like string line and the reentrance of the male voices. After the voices spar a few times, the orchestra resolves the conflict with an omninous melody, but one without the violence of the "confutatis maledictus" line.

This settles into the last movement of the section, called "Lacrimosa" or "Mournful". The day when the dead are to be judged is mournful, and only God can change the fate of those he chooses out of guilty mankind. The composer is emminently aware of his guilt and of the power and nature of God. Realizing this, he throws himself on God's mercy.

From here the piece takes an entirely new direction, and interestingly enough, a new composer. Mozart died before doing much on the last few sections of the Requiem liturgy. The composer Sussmayer, a pupil of Mozart, finishes the composition, borrowing heavily from the earlier movements and instruction from Mozart before his death.

The composer is through contemplating the day of judgement from the first-person perspective. He has been granted a vision of the allmighty and his power. With this new knowledge in mind, he remembers the purpose of the prayer in the first place, to bid farewell to the dead and to supplicate Christ to grant them salvation.

The music strikes a martial note as the composer recalls the heroic deeds of Christ and the Archangel Michael, giving the composer confidence that they can lead the souls of the dear departed dead through danger and evil and into the eternal light, as they once led Abraham through the harshness of the desert and into the promised land. The tension in the music is now directed against the enemies of the Lord, past and present. No longer does the composer feel his soul or those of his dead loved ones are threatened, because he is sure that the power of God is on his side, and not against him.

This is followed by three sections of uninterrupted praise for the Lord, "Sanctus" (holy) "Benedictus" (blessed) "Agnus dei" (The lamb of God), before the final supplication for the souls of the dead.

The themes of the first movement repeat, the swelling choruses proclaiming the majesty of the divine being. Once again the chorus asks that the dead be granted enternal rest and the "Lux aeterna", the eternal light of God's favor. If earlier the listener had any questions about the splendor of God, they have since been answered. In the first movement the themes were mere assertion, they have since been proven by visions of peace and joy, hellfire and damnation. The statement of the movement goes unchallenged.

"Lux aeterna luceat eis, Domine,
cum sanctis mis in aeternum,
quia pius es.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat eis,
cum sanetis tuis in aeternum,
quia plus es."


Amen.


You should check out the piece. It's terriffic and easily enjoyable. I personally own the recording by the English Chamber Orchestra and the John Aldis choir. It's a beautiful performance.